


Little Flower

by persephades



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Daddy Kink, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Loss of Virginity, Mutual Pining, Pseudo-Incest, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, WTFluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-09-07 16:16:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20312380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephades/pseuds/persephades
Summary: She glances down at her stepfather’s wrist where a small, black flower rests just below the edge of his palm. Clarke has stared at it hundreds of times, wondering who his soulmate might be and why he isn’t with them. She was about five when Marcus started dating her mother, young enough that Clarke didn’t see anything wrong with asking him about it. He dodged the question masterfully by distracting her with a present. Really, it was just a flower he picked outside. But to Clarke, who had only lost her father a year before and barely remembered him, it was everything.That’s just how Marcus is. He goes out of his way to fill the holes her parents left in her. He’s the father Clarke never got to have. And in the past six years, he has been both mother and father to her, giving her more than enough love and attention to make up for what her mom was unable to give. And is still unable to give, it seems.A stepfather/stepdaughter soulmate AU written for WTFluff.





	1. Chapter 1

Her mom stumbles out the front door without a word. No good morning. No check in about tomorrow. Clarke tries not to take it personally. Her mother loves her. She knows this. She’s just distracted. Living clean and sober has been hard for her, hard for all of them. If Abby Griffin were doing better, she would remember what tomorrow is and to check up on her daughter. Knowing that should be enough, but Clarke still feels her heart sink as the door slams shut behind her.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Marcus asks, stopping behind her at the kitchen island to press a kiss to her hair before moving to the refrigerator.

“Maybe,” she sighs. Clarke turns eighteen tomorrow, which in of itself isn’t that exciting. What is exciting is getting her soulmark. “It’s not like I’ll find out who my soulmate is, though,” she downplays it. “It’s not a big deal.”

She glances down at her stepfather’s wrist where a small, black flower rests just below the edge of his palm. Clarke has stared at it hundreds of times, wondering who his soulmate might be and why he isn’t with them. She was about five when Marcus started dating her mother, young enough that Clarke didn’t see anything wrong with asking him about it. He dodged the question masterfully by distracting her with a present. Really, it was just a flower he picked outside. But to Clarke, who had only lost her father a year before and barely remembered him, it was everything.

That’s just how Marcus is. He goes out of his way to fill the holes her parents left in her. He’s the father Clarke never got to have. And in the past six years, he has been both mother and father to her, giving her more than enough love and attention to make up for what her mom was unable to give. And is still unable to give, it seems.

He pours a glass of orange juice before putting it back into the fridge. Clarke is still working on her Poptart, killing time before Marcus drives her to school.

“You can be excited,” he whispers.

“Were you?”

It’s out of her mouth before she can stop herself. His face falters, and she feels guilty for asking. But maybe he’ll tell her about his soulmate now. After all, the two of them have grown so much closer these last few years. While her mom was in rehab, Clarke spent most nights sleeping in their bed, crying into his chest because of some horrible thing Abby said during detox. They were all each other had. And without her mom around, he became the person she confided everything in. Crushes at school, arguments with her friends, embarrassing questions about sex… Marcus helped her with all of it. She just wishes he would confide in her too.

“I was,” he admits. Something washes over his face, and her eyes drift down to his wrist. Maybe he never found his soulmate. “And you should be too.” His toast is done, and he gives her shoulder a squeeze as he walks by. He begins talking about what she wants for her birthday dinner, and she knows the soulmate conversation is over for now.

He must have never found his soulmate. There’s no way his soulmate would have been able to walk away from him. Especially not with how handsome he was back then. Not that he isn’t now, of course. Even with the gray streaked through his dark hair, there’s something too beautiful about him.

But Clarke always thinks back to his slicked back hair and clean-shaven face from the day they first met. She told him she looked like Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid, and he smiled so big when she said that. Not ten minutes later, she ran upstairs to put on her Ariel costume to show him, and she blushed when he told her how pretty she looked. Whatever reservations she had about her mom dating again were gone. Clarke was already trying to figure out when she could start calling him daddy because she loved him instantly and wanted to keep him.

She never got to, though. Her mom put her foot down on that. Jake Griffin was Clarke’s one and only dad, and Abby wouldn’t let Clarke or Marcus forget that. So, Clarke called him Marcus. Sometimes, dad or daddy would slip out by accident, and the excited smile on his face would break her heart as soon as reality set in. He wanted to be her dad so badly and still does. Clarke was just a little girl who wanted to have a dad again and wanted it to be Marcus, a man she loves more than anything.

The rest of the day goes by slowly. Clarke is all too aware of each tick of the clock pushing her closer and closer to midnight. By the time dinner rolls around, her mom has remembered that tomorrow is Clarke’s birthday and feels guilty for forgetting. The conversation quickly transforms into Clarke and Marcus reassuring her that she’s a great mom and that these things just happen.

She walks back to her room feeling a lot of things. Anger and guilt are the two main feelings. Angry that her mom forgot and guilty for being angry about it. Jealousy is another feeling that bubbles to the surface, one that Clarke has become all too familiar with since her mom came home from her last stint in rehab. Right now, Marcus is taking care of her. They’re curled up on the couch and he’s telling her what a good mother she is while he rubs her back in a reassuring circle. And Clarke is alone again. It’s Clarke’s birthday that was forgotten, but it’s her mom who gets to be comforted.

Clarke had wanted her parents to stay up with her tonight to wait on the soulmark, but that’s not happening now. Marcus has to take care of Abby, leaving Clarke to face this moment alone.

Guilt comes flooding back into her because she finds herself wishing her mom was still gone. She doesn’t, of course. She loves having her whole family together again. But while Abby was gone, there was a closeness between Clarke and Marcus that she only gets pieces of now because she has to share him with her mom again. There is no more curling up on the couch beside him or sleeping in his room because she’s upset. Their weekly dinner date to a restaurant of Clarke’s choice halted. There’s a noticeable distance between them now that her mom is home. It feels just like the first time Abby heard Clarke call him daddy and shut it down without explaining why.

She cries into her pillow until she can’t anymore. At some point, she falls asleep, abandoning all plans to stay up until midnight to see her soulmark. The hum of the heat kicking on in the air vent wakes her. It’s pitch dark in her room, probably hours before her alarm goes off for school. Clarke rolls onto her stomach and pulls her pillow a little tighter.

As she tries to fall back asleep, she remembers what today is. Half asleep, she opens one eye to see if the mark has appeared yet. A dark figure appears on her wrist, and she has to rub her eyes to see it clearly. It’s black and oddly familiar.

Clarke rolls onto her side to turn the lamp on so she can get a better look at it. It’s a flower that rests just below the edge of her palm. It’s an intricate little design, one she would be fascinated by if she had never seen it before. But she has seen it. She sees it every single day on her stepfather’s wrist.


	2. Chapter 2

Marcus is making pancakes on the griddle when Clarke finally musters the courage to come downstairs. She keeps a grip on her sweater sleeve so that it doesn’t ride up and expose her soulmark, though she knows she can’t keep it hidden from Marcus forever.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he tells her. He flips two last pancakes before leaning over to kiss the top of her head.

“Thanks,” she murmurs. As he gets back to work on breakfast, her eyes drift down to his soulmark… the one that matches hers. Clarke tossed and turned all night trying to make sense of it. Marcus is her dad, whether she’s allowed to call him that or not. He’s married to her mom. He can’t be her soulmate. That would be wrong.

And yet, he is.

“Something wrong?” he asks, but his eyes are focused on the spot on Clarke’s wrist that she’s keeping covered. Right. He probably wants to know what it is. And if it had been any other mark, Clarke might have rushed downstairs as quickly as possible to show him. After all, she shares everything with him.

“No,” she lies, and he seems to know she’s lying.

“You don’t have to show me,” he reassures before flipping two apple pancakes onto a plate and sliding them over to her. Before she can even say anything, he slides the plate of bacon over to her too. It’s her favorite breakfast. Of course, he got up early to make her favorite breakfast on her birthday. He does that every year because that’s what good dads do.

But the mark on her wrist makes that thought burn inside her, because he’s not just a good dad. He’s her soulmate. And all it takes is her mom walking in for the guilt of it all to crash down onto her. Abby kisses Marcus before making her plate, and a pang of jealousy and possessiveness washes through Clarke. It’s not even a new feeling. It’s one she’s secretly felt ever since her mom came home and took back all his attention. But with the revelation of her soulmark, that horrible feeling somehow gets uglier.

Abby doesn’t notice a change in her, but Marcus does. Clarke hates the victorious feeling she gets when he walks over and rests his hand on Clarke’s back, reassuring her even though he doesn’t have a clue what is wrong.

All of this is wrong. Clarke can’t be jealous of her mom. Not over the attention she’s received from her husband and certainly not because she can kiss him while Clarke can’t. Marcus is her dad, someone who tucked her in as a kid and makes her favorite breakfast, not someone Clarke should think about kissing. But the thought is there now, and despite Clarke trying to think of nothing but the pancakes he made her, she’s wondering if he’s a better kisser than Finn was.

“We have a present for you,” Marcus tells her, and without meaning to, Clarke finds herself watching his lips as he speaks. They look soft. Not chapped like Finn’s were. Maybe Clarke would actually like kissing if it were with him… her soulmate.

It takes her mom pushing a blue bag in front of Clarke for her to snap out of it. It’s not just any blue, though. It’s Tiffany’s blue. A smile tugs at Clarke’s lips as she pulls a small box from the bag. Inside is a small, silver necklace. Heart-shaped, of course, with the famous Tiffany & Co. on the front. All the girls at school had one, something Clarke has mentioned more than a few times to Marcus.

Her eyes flicker up to him, and he’s beaming. He knows that he nailed it with this gift. He’s probably been planning this for months. And though Clarke feels something strange tugging inside her as she sees his smile, she does her best to push it down and throw her arms around him in a hug. Belatedly, she remembers to hug her mom. But everyone in here knows Abby Griffin had nothing to do with this gift. She didn’t even remember her birthday until last night.

“Try it on,” her mom insists. Before Clarke can even pick it up, Marcus takes it and helps her get it on. Clarke lifts her hair up, all too aware of his warm hands grazing the back of her neck as he fixes the clasp. It’s innocent, of course. Just him trying to help Clarke like he always does. But the way she enjoys it doesn’t feel innocent. “Oh, that is so pretty on you!”

Clarke can’t help but smile at her mom. But then, Marcus’ hand slides down to Clarke’s back, and the gesture makes goosebumps form on her arms and legs. It stays there, spreading warmth through her as her mom looks at the time and grabs a piece of bacon to go.

When the door slams shut behind her, Marcus moves to the other side of the kitchen island to stand across from her. The beaming from before is gone, replaced with concern.

“Talk to me,” he says, and Clarke bites down on her bottom lip. “Do I need to be worried? If you know your soulmate and are worried they could hurt—”

“No,” she cuts him off. Of course, that’s where his mind went. Though he hasn’t said it, Clarke has known for a while that he has been anxious about her getting her soulmark. He’s been a little extra protective ever since Finn. “It’s not like that.”

He runs his hand through his hair, and for some reason, her mind flashes back to their first Christmas as a family. Clarke had just gotten her flower girl dress for her cousin’s wedding and never wanted to take it off. It was just so pretty. Like a bride’s dress. Her mom got called in for a surgery, leaving Marcus to watch Clarke. He always played whatever game she wanted to, more animatedly than her mom ever did. So when Clarke wanted to play pretend wedding, he happily played along. He hummed the wedding song, gave her a kiss, and they finished the game by Marcus picking her up and dancing with her all around the living room.

All these years, it’s been an innocent memory. One of a thousand like it. But with his mark on her wrist and confusing feelings of desire and jealousy, Clarke can’t help but wonder if she’s always loved him the wrong way. Was playing pretend wedding just a game all little girls play with their dads or did Clarke know all the way back then that she wished Marcus was married to her instead of her mom? Did Clarke sleep in his bed all those times because she wanted her dad or because she wanted him?

“I’m just worried, Clarke.”

“I know,” she sighs. “But can we talk about it later? Like tonight?” She needs a while to process this before she can even think about showing him the mark.

“Okay.” He won’t push her on it. Her mom does that, but he never does. It’s part of why Clarke goes to him for all her problems. The other part is that she knows she’s safe with him. With her mom, she never knows what kind of reaction she’s going to get. Tears, yelling, completely ignoring her. But Marcus is always patiently listening, giving her the same kind of reassuring smile he’s giving her now.

Clarke spends the entire day at school mulling over how to tell him. Her friends try to ask about her soulmark, but Clarke manages to dodge. She’s pretty sure she can’t tell them that her stepfather is her soulmate and still keep them as friends. They’ll probably think there’s something wrong with her. Which there isn’t. It’s not like Clarke chose it. The universe did. So, on some level, it has to be okay… but she knows that not everyone would see it that way.

That night, Marcus makes steak for dinner, another of Clarke’s favorites. Her mom eats about a third of her dinner before she starts to feel sick and goes to bed early. Once the two of them are done eating, Marcus suggests a movie, which makes her feel a little better about her mom leaving partway through her birthday. And it’s something the two of them really haven’t done since her mom came home, or at least, not in the same way they used to. They still watch tv and movies together all the time, but at opposite ends of the couch instead of curled up together. But because it’s her birthday, Clarke takes her spot right next to him and smiles when she feels him wrap his arm around her.

It’s only when the opening titles come on that Clarke remembers the mark on her wrist. She should pull away, but he’s so warm against her. And when she rests her head on his chest, she can hear his steady heartbeat. So, she doesn’t pull away. Clarke lets herself enjoy one last moment before everything becomes weird between them. One more night with her dad before her soulmark makes even the slightest touch between them feel wrong.

The movie is over too soon, and with school in the morning, she knows she needs to go get ready for bed. But both of them remain on the couch because of the conversation they still haven’t had.

“Promise me you won’t get upset,” Clarke starts.

“Why would I get upset?” he asks, and Clarke looks down at her wrist, still covered by her sleeve. “Clarke, it doesn’t matter who your soulmate is. Not really. If you find them and love them, then great. But if you don’t, I’m proof that you can still be happy without them.”

_Happy_. Is he happy? It’s not one of the first ten words she would use to describe him. Maybe a while ago he was. But he’s spent years helping her mom battle addiction. When she refused to get help, divorce was threatened. As was taking custody of Clarke. The last six years have been ugly, and Clarke isn’t sure they’re over yet. He loves Abby and he loves Clarke, but she isn’t sure he’s been happy.

“Promise me,” she repeats.

He hesitates, and Clarke contemplates running back to her room. Maybe she could hide it forever. That would be preferable to Marcus ever being upset with her.

“I promise,” he sighs. Clarke isn’t sure she believes the promise will stand. Marcus would never mean to break a promise, but he has no idea what kind of bomb Clarke is going to drop in his lap.

Her hand shakes as she tugs up the sleeve. She clenches her eyes shut as she thrusts her wrist out to him, not wanting to see the look on his face when he realizes it’s his mark. She listens, though. Hears his sharp intake of breath but no words. The grandfather clock ticks each second that passes, and with each tick, Clarke feels her wrist burn hotter under his gaze.

Like last night, she opens one eye first. Right as she does, she sees him bring his hand to her wrist and let his fingers trail over the design. She can’t see his face or horrified expression, only his warm fingers exploring the mark.

She lets the other eye open, bracing herself for his upset reaction, but upon looking at his posture, she isn’t sure he is upset. Confused, maybe. Like her, he probably doesn’t know what to do with this information. After all, she is basically his daughter. He raised her. In recent years, he’s done more to raise her than her own mother has. Plus, he’s married. Years ago, he made the decision not to wait on his soulmate. And as it turns out, he’s been raising his soulmate for the past thirteen years. As confusing as this must be for her, it must be so much more so for him.

“Marcus,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Don’t be sorry,” he interrupts. His head snaps up, and his dark eyes lock with hers. “It’s not your—” He cuts himself off before he says it isn’t her fault, and that tells her all she needs to know about his reaction. The soulmark is a mistake. Wrong. Just like she thought before her jealous and possessive thoughts jumbled her mind. “You didn’t make this happen,” he corrects. “It was fate.”

The word _fate_ feels ominous. Like a tragic end to a story that was unavoidable. But there’s a softness in his voice as he says it that confuses her. Plus, his fingers are still trailing back and forth over her soulmark, all rhythmic and soothing.

“You’re not upset?”

He blinks at her until a smile tugs at his lips. “I could never be upset with you,” he promises. With a sigh, Clarke leans forward and rests her head on his shoulder. She could survive a lot of things, but having Marcus be upset or disappointed in her isn’t one of them. “A soulmate is supposed to be the person you love more than anything,” he whispers before kissing the top of her head. “Of course, mine turned out to be you.”

Warmth floods her. She buries her face into his shirt, smiling wide. Her arms wrap around his neck, pulling closer. His hands find her back, just holding her there like he used to do before her mom came home. There’s a slight rock to it, like he’s trying to lull her to sleep. She almost does fall asleep like that. But then, he pulls back and cups her cheek so she has to look at him.

“It’s okay,” he whispers.

“What do we tell Mom?”

There’s a flash of something strange behind his eyes, almost like he hadn’t thought of that yet. Then again, Clarke had a whole day to think about this while he has only had minutes.

“We don’t,” he sighs. She looks down at her wrist. How is she going to keep this hidden? Luckily, her mom didn’t remember to look for it today. But she will definitely recognize her husband’s soulmark on her teenage daughter’s wrist and not be happy about it. Something like that would trigger another relapse.

As soon as it passes through her mind, she realizes Marcus is right. They can’t tell her. Clarke has to keep it hidden somehow. Sensing Clarke has come to the same conclusion he has, Marcus presses a kiss to her forehead. He’s given her a thousand kisses just like it, each one filling her with warmth like this one. But there’s something more behind it, something heavier than before. But not bad heavy. At least, she doesn’t think so.

“Nothing has to change,” he tells her. But something has already changed between them. Maybe not a bad change, but still a change. She can feel a weird heaviness behind his normally easy kisses and embraces.

She nods despite her doubts. He smiles, one of those real smiles of his that she doesn’t see all that often anymore. And she’s so happy to see it that she can’t help but kiss his cheek. But as she pulls away, something shifts in his expression.

Clarke jumps to her feet and says, “I should go to bed. I have school in the morning.”

“Right.” She doesn’t look back as she runs up the stairs. As she’s brushing her teeth, she hears him finally climb up the stairs. It probably took him a few minutes to clean everything up downstairs.

Once she’s on her bed, there’s a knock on her door.

“Yeah?”

Marcus peers his head in. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says. “Mind if I tuck you in even though you’re too old for it?” Clarke laughs, and he comes in. He used to do this all the time, especially on the nights when her mom had a night shift and Clarke missed her.

She climbs into bed and lets him tuck the covers all around her. Something about it makes her feel small again. Little. But safe. Always safe with Marcus. And loved, of course. She doubts there is anyone on this planet that could love her as much as he does, and how he handled the soulmark tonight is just proof of it.

“I missed this,” he confesses.

“Tucking me in?” she laughs.

“No.” She knows instantly what he means. He misses this… the way they were when it’s just the two of them. “Did you have a good birthday?”

Clarke nods. She sees her Tiffany’s necklace set out on her nightstand so she can wear it again tomorrow. “I love my necklace.”

“Good. Goodnight, sweetheart.” He leans down and presses a slow kiss to her forehead. She hums in response as something in her stomach flutters. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

She doesn’t mean to say it. It might just be because he tucked her in and she felt so small and little again. But it felt good to say until she saw his face shift again like it did when she kissed his cheek.

He leaves, and she chooses to let that face go. He still loves her and isn’t upset, and that’s all that really matters.


	3. Chapter 3

Little things change. Marcus starts taking the long way home from school, giving them just a few more minutes to act like they used to before coming home. He holds her hand a lot while he’s driving, which he’s never done before. He checks up on her once her bedroom lights are off to see if she’s asleep. She always pretends to be and is rewarded with a kiss to her cheek or forehead before he leaves.

Marcus acts a little different too. He sleeps in a little later and his showers seem to last longer. She’d be worried he’s depressed again, but he seems so bright when she finally sees him each morning.

He seems happier. At least, he does when Clarke is around. She hears enough fights from her parents to know that their frustrations are far from over, especially when her mom appears to be relapsing. Marcus won’t confirm that to Clarke, but she’s old enough to recognize the signs. Her newfound friendship with some lady named Diyoza is suspect. Most likely, Diyoza is her newest dealer.

It all comes to a head a week before Christmas break. They fight. Clarke puts her headphones in so she can keep studying for her Calculus exam, but she feels the house shake when her mom slams the door shut. She pulls the earbuds out in time to hear her car pull out of the driveway and Marcus screaming at her to come back. She doesn’t come back. High on some opiate Clarke can neither spell nor pronounce, she crashes into a fire hydrant just outside their neighborhood.

She walks away unharmed, but she gets busted for driving while high. Thelonious Jaha, a family friend, intervenes so no criminal charges are placed, and she is sent to another rehabilitation facility instead. 

They see her for the first time on Christmas Eve, and she spends the whole visit blaming Marcus for the accident. Clarke wonders if her mom even notices Clarke leaving the room after that. She probably notices when Marcus follows after her, though.

Clarke doesn’t cry right away. Marcus tries to take her mind off things on their drive home by turning into the rich neighborhoods to look at Christmas lights. It doesn’t work, though. Not when he is still so visibly shaken too. She makes it all the way past their front door before she breaks into a sob. Marcus wraps his arms around her as soon as the first tear falls.

She isn’t sure why she cries, though. Clarke has become numb to this. She had no delusions about it being different this time, and she knows exactly how it is going to go in the next few months. It takes a few minutes of crying for her to calm down enough to realize why she’s really crying: it could have been worse. Her mother could have killed someone. Or herself. But only a fire hydrant was hurt.

This time.

Those two words echo back and forth in her thoughts like a taunt. For the rest of Clarke’s life, she is going to be waiting for the phone call… the one that will destroy all of them. And that terrifies her.

She clings to Marcus, only letting him go when they both get ready for bed. Even then, Clarke tiptoes into his room while he’s in the bathroom and crawls into his side of the bed. The sheets and pillows smell like him, so she inhales as much of it as her ragged breathing will allow to try to trick herself into feeling safe.

“Sweetheart,” he says. His feet pad toward her quickly. The bed dips, and then, she’s in his arms.

“Daddy,” she chokes out as she noses his soft t-shirt. This is so much better than just curling up on his side of the bed. She can hear his steady heartbeat. She’s surrounded by the warm scent of his soap and shampoo. She’s safe here.

He murmurs all kinds of things into her hair while she cries. Sometimes telling her he loves her. Other times promising it will get better.

They end up on their sides. One of his hands stays on her back. The other threads through her hair. Though she’s still crying, Clarke pulls back enough to see the wet stain she left on his shirt. Marcus has been crying too, and the sight of his red eyes nearly breaks her heart. She wipes his tears away, trying to comfort him like he’s comforted her. He just smiles weakly at the gesture before grabbing her hand and kissing her palm. Well, not quite her palm. The skin just below it.

After a beat, she realizes that he kissed her soulmark.

“Marcus,” she whispers, and he hums in response. “Do you love me?”

“Of course, I do.”

“I mean like how soulmates are supposed to love each other.”

Clarke doesn’t think she’s ever been in love. She didn’t love Finn, not really. He was just her first boyfriend and kind of a jerk.

She feels something for Marcus, something more than she’s supposed to love a parent, but she isn’t sure if she’s in love since she has nothing to compare it to. But Marcus would know. He’s been in love before. He would be able to tell if this was like that or if it was just like it had always been between them.

Clarke doesn’t trust herself to know if there’s a difference. For as long as she can remember, she’s always loved Marcus this much. It’s seemed innocent until his mark appeared on her wrist, and now she’s unsure.

“How do you think soulmates are supposed to love each other?”

“I don’t know,” she murmurs. “Most soulmates kiss a lot and do other things and one day get married, but—”

“Is that what you want?” Heat floods her cheeks and she tries to bury her face back into his shirt. “No, none of that.” He pulls her head back and makes her look at him. “Clarke, my sweetheart.” She squirms a little closer at the endearment, and a smile forms on her lips. “There are all different kinds of soulmates out there. We don’t have to be like other soulmates, but if that’s what you want…”

Their eyes meet. Her heart started to sink when he started that sentence, but at the end, it came back to life.

“Do you want that?” she asks.

Marcus pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear as he thinks through his answer. “I want whatever makes you the happiest.” That’s not an answer. It’s what he says when they’re trying to decide on a restaurant, insisting he’ll be happy with whatever Clarke wants.

“Do you want me?”

A now familiar flash washes across his face, the same one she saw on her birthday. She’s seen it a lot more lately, but she hasn’t a clue what it means.

“Always,” he whispers. His voice is low and heavy, the kind that vibrates through her. It’s the sort of sound she thinks about sometimes when she’s lying in her bed at night. She’d be too wound up to sleep, feeling a strange kind of warmth shudder through her. The only relief she found was when she pressed her thighs together.

She finds herself doing it here too, but their legs are tangled together, so she ends up squeezing one of his legs between her thighs. It feels better, though. Better than it ever did on her own.

Her eyes fall onto his lips again, and the forbidden thoughts surface again. It happens more than she’d like to admit, a lot of times during their longer drives home. It feels so good to have him kiss her cheeks and forehead. She’d probably get that tingling feeling if he kissed her mouth.

“But do you want me?”

She keeps staring at his soft looking lips and nods slowly. Then, she meets his eyes again. They’re so full of love and warmth, just like they’ve always been, but there’s something else there. Want. He wants her. Just like she wants him.

Clarke has only ever kissed Finn Collins, so she’s shaking nervously as she tilts her head up and leans toward Marcus. His hand on her cheek stops her, and for a moment, her heart sinks.

But then he whispers, “Lie back.” Confused but not wanting to ruin the moment, she does. He lies on top of her, his weight heavy against her, but not too heavy. More comforting than anything. Like being surrounded by him. “I love you so much, sweetheart.” He isn’t kissing her yet, but the way his fingers trace down her cheeks and the loving look in his eyes is enough to give her the feeling she’s looking for. The butterflies or tingles or however else her friends describe what she couldn’t feel with Finn.

“I love you too, Daddy.” It feels good to call him that. Her mom isn’t here to tell her that he’s not her dad. And hasn’t her mom already taken enough? Clarke has always wanted to call him her dad, so she’s going to. They love each other, and the word feels right in a way that calling him Marcus never has.

That’s when he kisses her. It starts with a chaste, little one to her mouth, followed by a few peppering her cheeks and the corners of her mouth, and then, his mouth descends on hers.

It’s different than how Finn kissed her. More certain and heavier. His tongue traces the seam of her lips until she parts them, then it dives past her lips and explores her mouth. She doesn’t do much of anything in response, just moves her lips against his as he guides her through the kiss.

Clarke feels warm under him, her mind pleasantly blank as his sure lips glide against hers. Little noises escape her throat, happy ones. Kind of like the ones she hears from him, but his are deeper, hungrier even. Low like his voice was when he said _always_.

His kisses don’t speed up, not like Finn’s did. They’re not rushed. They’re patient and steady. In time, they slow down to occasional pecks as his fingers trail up and down her cheek.

“We should sleep. It’s Christmas tomorrow,” he whispers between pecks. Clarke whines when he rolls off her and quickly curls into him so she doesn’t lose his warmth. He hums happily when she tucks her face into his neck and slides her leg back between his. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” she murmurs even though it’s not true. What she wants is this. Just the two of them and the closeness they only seem to have when they’re alone.

“Clarke.”

“Can it just be us tomorrow?” What she’s really asking is if they can skip seeing her mom. He won’t agree to that, not on Christmas. Any other day, maybe.

“Okay.” Clarke pops her head up to look at him. He’s serious.

“Really?”

He leans over and turns off his bedside lamp. With a sigh, he murmurs, “Your mom needs some time anyway, I think.” Clarke thinks back to the horrible things Abby said tonight and the blame she threw at Marcus, and she finds herself pulling closer to him, offering comfort in the only way she knows how. Abby must have really hurt him this time if he doesn’t want to see her tomorrow either.

She tucks her face back into his neck and counts his steady breaths until she can’t stay awake any longer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the smut begins

When she wakes up, Marcus isn’t in bed. The shower is running, so Clarke stays curled up in his bed waiting for him to get out. But the shower seems to drag on far longer that it needs to.

Rubbing her eyes, Clarke rolls out of bed and walks to the bathroom door, ready to knock and ask if everything is okay. But she hears something as she approaches the door. Something low and warm sounding.

A moan.

Her eyes fly open wide. She’s heard sounds like this. Sometimes at Octavia’s house coming from Bellamy’s room and other times in those porn videos that Raven shows her while they’re skipping gym. Clarke knows exactly what Marcus is doing in there. She should go back to her room and pretend she never heard the sounds.

But instead of going back to her own room, Clarke stays right where she is and listens to the low, relieved noises falling off his lips. She leans against the door to hear it better right as a loud groan sends ripples of warmth through her. Clarke can picture it perfectly: hot water pouring down in her parents’ walk-in shower, Marcus’ hair damp with strands sticking to his face, and his large hand wrapped around his cock as he desperately tries to stay quiet enough not to wake his sleeping stepdaughter.

Clarke’s thighs press together as she imagines the scene on the other side of the door. Is he thinking about her? Her stomach churns with jealousy when she imagines him thinking about anyone else. But it’s silly. He wouldn’t think about someone else. He loves her. More than anything, he said. She’s his soulmate. So, Clarke lets her head fall back against the door and enjoys the idea of him masturbating while thinking of her.

When the water shuts off, Clarke tiptoes out of his room and rushes to her own bedroom. Quickly, she throws her now damp panties into the hamper and pulls on a clean pair. As she gets dressed, she hears the stairs creak. Clarke lets out a sigh of relief. He’s getting a head start on their Christmas morning breakfast, not coming to confront her about listening in. He probably doesn’t know.

Clarke throws on a Christmas sweater and some leggings before joining him. The day goes by quickly. First, breakfast. Next, presents. Marcus is over the moon when he opens the present she made him in art this semester. It’s a painting she’s been working on for a while now, one she made especially for his office at work.

“Every time I glance up at it, I’ll think of you,” he tells her with a wide grin. Normally, this is where he would kiss her forehead and then hand her another present. But instead, he kisses her on the lips, and Clarke lets out a surprised squeak.

He keeps doing it between each present… like he’s been doing it all his life. Toward the end, Clarke doesn’t care much about the presents. Her excitement is reserved for the kisses that follow each one.

The rest of the day goes by lazily. A Christmas movie marathon comes on, and they get about halfway through Christmas with the Kranks when they get a call from the rehabilitation center. Her mom asks to talk to Marcus first, and the two of them stay on the phone for half an hour. It’s only when the movie gets to the good part where the whole neighborhood is working together to throw a party for Blair and Enrique that her mom asks to talk to Clarke. She asks if Clarke is feeling better since apparently Marcus lied and said Clarke was sick and that’s why they didn’t visit her today. Then, they exchange basic Christmas pleasantries. Clarke tells her about the presents that were opened and the movies they’re watching. Abby turns on Christmas with the Kranks in her room so it’s like all three of them are watching the ending together. When it’s over, she gets on the phone with Marcus again for another fifteen minutes.

He comes back during a commercial, and without a word, he settles next to her on the couch, pulls her against him, and slowly moves them both to a lying down position. They’ve never lied on the couch like this together. Clarke will throw her legs over his lap or sometimes lay her head down in it, but never this. But she likes it. He’s warm against her back, and his hand rests on her hip to hold her tight against him. She can feel him breathing against her neck, occasionally turning his head to kiss her hair or cheek.

The afternoon and evening go by in a daze. Movie after movie comes on. Clarke falls in and out of sleep. Everything seems to fade away except for him. He holds her tight, making her feel safe and loved in a way that only he can.

She must fall asleep again because the next thing she’s aware of is being lifted.

“Marcus,” she mumbles. When she blinks her eyes open, she sees the mirror that hangs halfway up their staircase. He’s carrying her to bed, just like he would do when she was little.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” he tells her. She doesn’t, but she does rest her head on his shoulder for the rest of the trip to his bedroom. He’s so careful as he sets her down on the bed, like he’s scared he’ll wake her up again. A kiss lands on her forehead before he goes into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Clarke doesn’t open her eyes as she tugs her bra off from under her sweater. She flings it and her socks onto the floor to pick up in the morning.

Marcus tiptoes back into the room, turning off all the lights and fumbling his way through the dark.

“I’m awake,” she mumbles. The bed dips, and as soon as she’s sure he’s in the bed, Clarke feels her way over to him. Without opening her eyes, she finds the part of his neck she likes to bury her face in and snuggles close.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

In her grogginess, Clarke can’t recall if he’s ever called her that before. She’s usually his sweetheart. Sometimes sweetie for short. But never his baby.

“It’s okay, Marcus.” He sighs, and she doesn’t like this sigh. “What?”

“You can call me Daddy like before,” he whispers, and a shiver flashes through her. “If you want to.”

“I do, but—” She buries her face closer and only stops when she feels his skin against her lips. “Isn’t it weird? You being my dad and my soulmate?”

“Which would you pick? Dad or soulmate?” Clarke furrows her brows as she contemplates the question. She loves the relationship they’ve had over the last few years. Marcus takes such good care of her. He taught her to drive, took her bra shopping for the first time, and held her while she cried over Finn. He’s a good dad. Probably the best one there is. But now there is this desire for him burning inside her, one she doesn’t fully understand. She just knows that she wants him all to herself and doesn’t want to stop touching him. She couldn’t choose between the two. Clarke wants to be kissed all over and be tucked in at night. She wants her special birthday breakfasts and to hear those quiet moans like he made in the shower. She wants both Daddy and her soulmate.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to pick, sweetheart. I can be both. Just like you can be both my soulmate and my little girl. It’s okay now. What we’ve been feeling is okay now.” He kisses the top of her hair. The _what we’ve been feeling_ throws her. She’s only been aware of feeling this since her soulmark came in. But maybe he’s been feeling it longer… how long, she isn’t sure. “Is that what you want? To be both? To love each other both ways?”

Her grip tightens on his shirt as she nods.

“Good. Now give Daddy a good night kiss.” The word feels different when he says it. Heavier. Warmer. She tilts her head up and gives him a chaste little kiss. She can feel his lips turn up into a smile. He kisses her now, a bit slower, but not nearly as heated as his kisses last night. When he’s done, he pulls her tight against him and Clarke lets her eyes fall shut.

Sleep comes easy, but a quiet groan wakes her up. At first, she thinks she’s dreaming. But then she hears it again. It’s exactly like the sound she heard Christmas morning, only this time she can hear it vibrating through his chest.

Clarke opens one eye, and the lamppost from outside the window illuminates the small movement happening under the blanket. It’s a rhythmic up and down motion. When Clarke turns to see it better, it stops.

“Clarke?” Marcus whispers quietly. He’s testing to see if she’s awake.

When she doesn’t respond, the movement slowly begins again. After a few shifts, the sounds start falling off his lips. They’re beautiful moans, even better than the ones she heard from the shower. He keeps them hushed, desperate not to wake her but too full of pleasure to be able to keep them in. As he gets closer, they get louder despite his best efforts.

Clarke grows frustrated while she watches. She can’t push her thighs together without alerting him to the fact that she’s awake, and she can’t see what’s actually happening under the blanket. The frustration grows and grows until Clarke accidentally blurts out, “I want to see.”

The movement stops as soon as she speaks.

“Clarke,” he says. “How long have you been awake?” When she doesn’t answer right away, his hand slides out from under the covers and tilts her chin up so she has to look at him. But all she can think about is the fact that this same hand was just wrapped around his cock.

“A few minutes,” she admits. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, no,” he chokes out. Even in the dark, she can see his cheeks turn red. “Were you, uh, watching?”

“Yes. But I didn’t see much.”

“But you wanted to see more.” Clarke bites down on her bottom lip and glances down at the bulge forming under the covers. “Right?”

Clarke nods weakly before trying to tuck her face back into his neck, but he doesn’t let her. “Daddy, I’m sorry. I won’t watch. I promise.”

“Baby, I’m not upset,” he murmurs before giving her a quick forehead kiss. “Just surprised. Do you want to watch?”

It feels like something she can’t admit to out loud, so she nods again. His hand leaves her chin and slowly peels down the blanket. His boxers are pulled down, letting his large, erect cock spring free in the night air. Clarke settles her cheek back onto his chest as she looks at it. It’s hard to make out much in the dark, only its size and the reddish color toward the tip.

His large hand wraps around it again and slowly slides up and down the shaft. It’s kind of hypnotizing to watch, like a character in a cartoon waving a watch back and forth to lull someone into a daze. It’s a warm daze he puts her under, one so enrapturing that she almost doesn’t hear her name followed by a moan. He keeps saying it along with sweetheart and baby, and she feels the words rumbling through his chest each time.

“You’re thinking about me?” she whispers as his fingers dip into the wet part on the tip and slide the juices down.

“I always think about you,” he says, half whisper and half moan. “I have for years.” A smile forms on her lips. He was thinking about her in the shower, then. And all the other times he’s done this. He thinks about her when he wants to feel good. For years, he said. He’s loved her like this that long.

His hand moves expertly up and down his cock. It doesn’t look too hard to do, but Clarke figures her hands will be too small for this kind of task. But now that the image is in her head, it’s all Clarke can think about. What would his cock feel like in her hands? It looks hard. Would she have to be gentle with it?

Question after question forms in her head, and before she is even aware of what she’s doing, her hand reaches out for it. Marcus stops abruptly as her fingertips trace down the side. It’s warm. Hot, even. And soft. At least, the skin is soft.

“Baby,” he growls.

“Sorry.” Clarke tries to pull her hand away but his hand catches it.

“No, sweetheart. Do you want to touch it some more?” Clarke glances up at him to make sure he’s serious. He nods reassuringly and pulls her hand back to his cock. She wraps her hand around it like he did and slowly slides it up to the tip. The wetness is sticky and hot, but she can’t help but dip her fingers into it like he did. When she tries to stroke him again, his hand wraps over hers and tightens her grip. “Like this.”

He guides her for a few strokes, moving her hand faster than it was before. She gets the hang of it after a few tries, and his hand releases hers. The moans start rolling off his tongue again, and Clarke finds herself watching his face instead of his cock.

Marcus catches her watching him and kisses her. It’s sloppier than his kisses normally are, more like breathing than actual kissing. But his moans slipping into her mouth feels really good.

They keep kissing as his hand covers hers again, this time guiding her faster. “That’s it,” he tells her between wet kisses. “Good. So good, baby.”

“How do I know when—”

“You’ll know,” he tells her before taking her lips again. So, Clarke keeps going as his hand guides her. The moans grow louder and deeper, and the sound and taste of them are so addicting. But his breathing is so ragged that she’s nervous about kissing him, scared he won’t be able to breathe. So, she gives him kisses on his cheek instead.

Hot liquid falls over their joined hands, but he keeps them both moving. Clarke stops kissing him to turn and watch as his come covers their hands. Again, it’s hypnotizing. She’s heard all about this from her guy friends at school, though she can admit that she’s never understood it until now.

Slowly, his breathing stabilizes, and after a minute, he removes his hand from hers and grabs a tissue from his nightstand. He dabs the tissue between each of her fingers, slowly wiping off each one until they’re dry.

“I need to go clean off,” he tells her, and Clarke pulls off him so he can get out of bed. While he’s gone, Clarke squeezes her thighs tight to ease the tension that had been building through her. It’s almost enough, but what she really needs is a pillow between them and a few minutes alone to take care of it. But she doesn’t have a few minutes. Marcus comes back in and plops down in bed beside her. Their legs tangle together the way they always do, and when her thighs involuntarily squeeze, his thigh is between them. “Clarke.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles, embarrassed.

“No, it’s okay. Do what feels good, sweetheart.” So, she squeezes again. His leg is firmer than a pillow, warmer too. It feels better, actually. She shifts onto him, giving herself a bit more leverage as she grinds down onto him. Something is building, but Clarke can’t seem to get there. She’s learned all about orgasms from Raven. She’s supposed to rub her clit until it happens, but whenever Clarke tries to touch herself, she doesn’t feel much of anything. This right here gets her as close to it as she can figure out, but it’s still not quite the feeling Raven describes.

Sensing her frustration, he whispers, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t… I don’t know how,” she huffs. “It feels good but it’s not—”

“Enough,” he completes the thought. Clarke nods and lets her face fall into his chest. “I know, I know,” he murmurs before kissing just above her eyebrow. “You want to feel good like I did.”

“Yeah,” she chokes out, her voice sounding so small and high all the sudden. “You know how to do it, right?” As soon as the words are out, a flash of jealousy burns through her. Of course, he knows how. He’s done all this before. With her mom and probably lots of women before her.

“Mhmm,” he hums while slowly pushing her onto her back. Then, he gives her a slow kiss before whispering, “Do you want Daddy to help?”

Suddenly, it doesn’t matter that he’s done this before. None of those women were his little girl who he loves more than anything. None of them were his soulmate. None of them got to have this special connection to him. No one but Clarke ever will.

Clarke barely manages to nod her assent before she feels him slip his hand into her leggings. It feels just like her own hand does as it fumbles down there. He pushes the crotch of her panties to the side, and Clarke remembers that she hasn’t shaved down there in months. Didn’t see much of a point after summer was over and she wasn’t wearing swimsuits anymore, but now, she’s mortified. She’s about to tell him to stop but then his thumb rubs something that feels so good that Clarke can’t remember why she wanted him to stop. She feels just like she does when she puts a pillow between her legs… only more. So much more. It’s an intense feeling that she can’t quite describe. All she knows is that she needs more of it.

“There we go,” he whispers. Clarke’s hands reach behind his neck, holding onto the damp with sweat hair as his fingers rub her.

He’s rubbing her _clit_, she remembers belatedly. Raven told her that was what it was called.

The sounds Clarke makes are different than his sounds. Higher and breathier. Almost like little cries even though she feels really good.

He holds her close through it all, kissing her cheeks and forehead and lips. She gets lost in it, too wrapped up in warmth and the wet sounds coming from their lips or his fingers on her clit.

“Daddy,” she whines. Her cheeks feel damp with tears, but they’re good tears. She pulls him a little tighter right as it feels like it’s too much.

“Shh,” he whispers. “It’ll feel good. Just let go. I’ve got you.” Then, he kisses her. It’s hard enough that it stills her. No more squirming against his hand or clawing at the back of his neck. Just holding onto him as his fingers push her over.

Clarke loses track of the sounds falling off her lips. Some are words, others are cries. None of them make any sense. Nothing does except for the little encouragements he gives her as her first real orgasm washes through her.

His hand slips out of her leggings and pulls her toward him. He whispers all kinds of things to her. He tells her he loves her and that she did so good. She hears him say that she’s beautiful. He calls her everything from sweetheart to baby. And all of it melts together in his warm embrace, lulling a sated Clarke to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

It becomes part of their routine. Wake up, eat breakfast, drive to school, drive home from school, have dinner, touch each other, and then fall asleep. Every night, Marcus takes her a little farther. One orgasm becomes two. He pushes fingers inside her and fucks her with them like he says he’s going to with his cock.

After the first week back at school, he takes her to the doctor so she can get the birth control shot. She hates needles, but they go for ice cream after as a reward.

Clarke starts shaving her cunt, but when she accidentally nicks the skin, Marcus insists on taking over. He does a better job, anyway. Twice a week, she sits at the edge of the bathtub while he shaves her, and after, he gives her clit little kisses a reward.

He shaves his beard off because he worries about it being too rough on her skin. She kind of misses the beard, but she likes how soft his face feels between her legs now. Plus, he looks more like he did when he first became her dad this way. More like Prince Eric. When she tells him that, he just beams at her like it’s the sweetest compliment he’s ever heard.

They’re happy right now. But though neither of them says it, they both dread Abby coming home. Each night spent tangled up in each other’s arms grows more precious as they get closer to her return. Clarke will have to return to her bed. No more kisses during dinner or lazily being eaten out as she wakes up in the morning. It’ll be back to not calling him her dad and boiling with jealousy as her parents lie in the same bed every night.

She hates it.

Marcus keeps reminding her that it’s only for a little while. When her mom is a little farther along in her recovery, he’s going to talk to her about divorce. Apparently, he’s been wanting to for years now but was terrified of losing custody of Clarke since he’s not legally her father. Now that she’s eighteen, he doesn’t have anything to worry about. Clarke can choose who she lives with, and there’s no way she wouldn’t choose him.

Despite knowing that it’s only temporary, Clarke finds herself sulking during their last dinner before Abby comes home.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs from the seat beside her. Clarke plays with the spaghetti in front of her, twirling it around as her fork scrapes against the plate. “Do you really want to spend tonight like this?”

“No,” she sighs before finally taking a bite. It’s good. His cooking is always good. Clarke should be enjoying this more since she has no idea when it will just be the two of them again. Weeks, maybe. More likely months, though. “I just don’t want things to change again.”

“I know. But I’ll come tuck you in every night, okay?”

Clarke bites down on her lip. As much as she’d like a kiss goodnight, she’s gotten used to getting more than that. A lot more than that. “What do you mean by tucking me in?” she asks.

“What do you want me to mean?” he laughs.

“I still want to touch each other,” Clarke says. “Just like we do now.”

Marcus sets his fork down and pushes his plate forward. His chair scoots toward hers, and before she can ask what he’s doing, he’s pushing his hand between her legs. Clarke drops her fork and leans back, but he just clucks his tongue at her. “Finish your dinner,” he whispers. She picks up the fork again and struggles to stay still as Marcus rubs his hand up and down the crotch of her leggings. “Don’t worry. I’ll touch you when I come to tuck you in. We’ll just have to be extra careful so we’re not caught.”

Clarke takes little bites so she doesn’t choke as he adds more pressure.

“But let’s not worry about that now. I want to make tonight special.” Clarke perks up. She likes it when Marcus says that. Last time he did, he ate her out for the first time. And there’s one more thing they haven’t done yet that Clarke has been waiting on ever since she got her birth control shot.

He keeps rubbing her through her leggings while she eats. Not enough to make her come, but still hard enough to keep her squirming. He does this sometimes while they’re watching TV, like he’s getting her ready for later.

She’s quick about finishing her dinner now that she knows there’s a surprise at the end. But when they’ve cleaned up all the plates, all he does is kiss her. She tries to kiss him harder, but he keeps the pace slow. Clarke groans in frustration. Her leggings are soaked through from his teasing, and all he’s giving her is gentle kisses.

“Daddy, please,” she whines, and the corners of his mouth turn up. “You said you wanted to make tonight special.”

“I do,” he promises before giving her another kiss. “But first, I want to make sure you know how much I love you, sweetheart.”

Clarke melts a bit at his words and gives in to a few more slow kisses. She still feels impatient, but it’s hard to be upset when it’s him trying to show her much he loves her. So, she lets him crowd her against the counter, grasping her face between his hands as he gives her kiss after kiss. It goes on so long that Clarke relaxes and feels her patience slowly come back to her. Now, she could keep on kissing him all night.

“Ready for bed?” he asks with his eyes shut and forehead resting against hers.

“Mhmm. But will you carry me?” A half laugh escapes his mouth, but he knows she’s not joking. He carries her to bed a lot these days, and it’s her favorite. She giggles as he gets his arm under her legs and pulls her up to his chest. Clarke wraps her arms around his neck and rests her cheek against his chest.

He sets her down at the top of the stairs, and the two of them separate to get ready for bed. Clarke brushes her teeth and throws her hair up so she can take off her makeup. Marcus says she looks better without it, anyway. She changes into a t-shirt and discards her leggings and bra so she’ll be comfortable.

Her bare feet pad into his room, catching a glimpse of him washing his face in the bathroom. Clarke hops onto the bed, lying right in the middle of it. Her hand slips into her panties while she waits, and she touches herself just like Marcus showed her to. Now, she can come all by herself. But she still prefers it when he helps.

When he comes out of the bathroom, his shirt is off and he’s running his hands through his hair. He stops in the doorway as soon as he sees Clarke.

“Baby,” he whispers.

“Come here,” she whines. His eyes are fixed on the hand in her panties.

“You sure? You don’t look like you need my help.”

“I do,” she huffs. “My fingers are too small.” This gets him to push off the doorframe, but he stops at the end of the bed. “I need something bigger.”

“Bigger like my fingers?” Clarke bites down on her lip and shakes her head. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want you to…” It’s not a word she’s supposed to say. No one swears in this house, not even Marcus. But if she wants him to do it, she has to say it. “Fuck me.” He cocks his head to the side as if waiting for her to continue. “With your cock. You said you would one day.”

“I did, and I always keep my promises, don’t I?”

Clarke bites down on her bottom lip and nods her head. He pretends to be weighing whether or not he’s going to tonight, but she can see the outline of his cock protruding through the thin fabric of his boxers. He wants to. Maybe more than Clarke does. After all, he says he’s been wanting Clarke for years. It breaks her heart to think about him wanting her for so long yet not feeling like he could act on it. He also says that it would have been wrong before Clarke turned eighteen, but she doesn’t see much of a difference between how she was a few years ago and now. She’s always been more mature than most kids her age anyway.

“Daddy,” she whispers, and the corners of his lips turn up. “Please. Before Mom comes home.”

With a sigh, he walks around the bed and plops down beside her. “Let’s not talk about Mom,” he murmurs while pulling her into his chest. “It’s just us here.”

Clarke nods and tilts her head up for a kiss. His lips press into hers slowly as he pushes her onto her back. It starts a lot like every other night. Slow kisses that get wetter and dirtier as the minutes drag on. His hand slips into her panties and rubs little circles into her clit. Then, he fucks her with his fingers. She buries her face into his bare chest as she comes and he tells her how much he loves her.

Normally, this is where Clarke starts to get sleepy. But not tonight. When her breathing has steadied enough, Clarke sits up and tugs her t-shirt over her head.

“Baby,” Marcus whispers. The cold air hits her nipples, and Clarke squirms back into his embrace. He’s touched her under the shirt plenty, but they’ve never gotten this naked with each other. “No, sweetheart. Let Daddy see.”

He lays her back down so her head plops down in the center of the pillow. He pushes up on one elbow while the other hand ghosts over one breast. Clarke watches his eyes rake over her, trying to understand what he’s thinking. His palm covers one breast and gives it a soft squeeze.

“A perfect fit,” he murmurs, and Clarke looks down to see what he means. Her breast fits perfectly in his large hand, just spilling over a little. “I always knew you were made for me, Clarke.” Clarke’s smile widens as he lifts her hand up and kisses the soulmark on her wrist. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

He rolls on top of her and gives her a long, moan-filled kiss. His legs fall between hers, and Clarke wraps her legs around him to hold him close. She can feel his cock rubbing against her core, and she’s about to remind him about his promise when he starts kissing down her throat. She whimpers as his tongue and teeth travel the expanse of her skin, and she’s squirming by the time she feels his mouth between her breasts.

Both hands take a breast in them as he gives gentle kisses to her sternum. His mouth makes its way to one breast and he takes a nipple into her mouth. It feels good when he gives it a hard suck, far better than anything her hands have been able to do. And he moans into her skin as he sucks at the flesh, which makes her feel all hot and squirmy underneath him. He switches and gives the other breast the same lavish attention. He only stops when Clarke whines, “Daddy, fuck me!”

He clucks his tongue and gives her nipple a quick kiss before looking up at her. “Clarke,” he warns.

“Please,” she adds. And bats her eyelashes at him for good measure. “I just want you really bad, Daddy.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice sounding choked.

“Uh huh. Can’t wait any longer.” His face buries itself between her breasts and he groans loudly. She squirms underneath him until she feels his fingers hook under her panties. Marcus sits up and pulls them down her legs.

Once they’re off, he pauses. Her legs are spread for him, her cunt bare and soft after he shaved her yesterday. A shiver washes through Clarke as the air conditioning wafts over her naked body, and he just stares at her skin. He licks his lips while his hands slide up and down her thighs. His eyes look dark, hungry even, yet he makes no move to hurry things along.

“So many years,” he murmurs, more to himself than to Clarke. “I’ve waited so many years.”

There’s something broken about how he says it. It hurts and makes her chest ache. Clarke sits up to meet him, throws her arms around his neck, and kisses him hard.

“No more waiting,” she promises between frantic kisses.

“No more,” he repeats as he pushes her onto her back. One hand leaves her so he can push his boxers down, but the other stays firmly on her cheek. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Daddy.” Tears form in her eyes at the words. There’s something so overwhelming about what is happening in this bed tonight. It’s like being having lived a lie all her life and only now embracing the truth. This is how it was always meant to be. Soulmate and soulmate. Daddy and his little girl.

He adjusts above her, and then she feels it. The head of his cock brushes against her soaking cunt. It’s happening. It’s finally happening. She is finally going to be with her dad the way she was always meant to.

Marcus takes such care as he slowly presses inside her. The stretch burns, but he gives her kisses and encouragements as he pushes further. It’s sort of like ice cream after a shot or the way he would hold her to his chest when she got hurt and let her listen to his steady heartbeat as she calmed down. Like a kiss to her knee after it got scraped. Little or big pain, he has always kissed it better. Knowing that makes it easier.

Clarke cries quietly during the first few thrusts. His cock is so much bigger than his fingers, and even though she knew that ahead of time, feeling it is so different.

“You’re going so good, sweetheart. My little girl is taking me so fucking good,” he growls into her cheek.

“Yeah?” she whimpers as her bottom lip quivers.

“Uh huh,” he hums. “So tight, baby.” The reverent way he says it must mean that tight is good.

Clarke doesn’t do much, just sort of lies there while her dad fucks her. She doesn’t mind that. Actually, she kind of likes it. Marcus is taking care of her. Not letting her lift a finger because he likes spoiling his little girl. Still, she threads her fingers through his hair and kisses him sloppily, showing him that she loves him as much as he loves her.

“So tight, I don’t know how long I can last,” he huffs.

After a while, she starts to feel that build again. It’s a little different than the one from earlier. Warmer, somehow. A little less patient too. Clarke’s grip tightens on him.

“Daddy,” she whines. His head pops up, and his eyes look panicked. “I need… I need to…” A smile forms on his lips as he must complete her sentence in his head. His hand snakes between them, and his fingers rub fast, hard circles into her aching clit.

“Yeah, you’re gonna come for Daddy,” he tells her. “Right on my cock like a good girl.” Her eyes fall shut and his words are all that seem to anchor her to this room. The rest of her seems to float away in a warm fog as he pushes her right over the edge. “And then, I’m gonna come inside you. You want that, right?”

“Uh huh,” she mumbles.

“When you’re a big girl, Daddy’s gonna get you pregnant that way. You want that too, don’t you?”

There’s too much going on. His words are too much. They never talked about having babies one day. Clarke had worried he wouldn’t want kids since he already has her, but now he’s talking about getting her pregnant one day right as Clarke’s orgasm washes through her.

“You want to have my babies, don’t you baby?” he whispers, and she nods frantically. Clarke will have all the babies he wants. She’d give him anything to make him happy. Her mom won’t like it, but she doesn’t understand what Marcus and Clarke have. No one does.

“Fuck,” he growls, and Clarke feels him shudder inside her. His face buries itself into Clarke’s neck, and he mumbles something about her being pregnant and then something else about babies, but Clarke is too far gone to make sense of any of it.

It’s only as she comes to that the meaning of his words hit her. He wants to have babies with her. That’s how much he loves her. He wants to make her a mom and raise a family with her somewhere. Maybe even marry her after he divorces her mom.

Clarke is grinning like a fool as Marcus slips out of her.

“You alright?” he asks, pressing kisses all over her face.

“Yeah.” His spend slips out of her, all hot and sticky between her legs. When she tries to move her legs, soreness pangs through her. She must make a face because Marcus pulls her into his chest and gives her a hard kiss.

“You’re okay,” he tells her.

“I know,” she grins. She’s okay because she has him. Her soulmate. Forever and ever, no matter what.


End file.
